


Now Is Not The Time

by neutronstarcollision



Series: With a Little Help From Our Friend [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutronstarcollision/pseuds/neutronstarcollision
Summary: Mitch Marner tackled Rasmus Ristolainen for Auston Matthews, so naturally Connor McDavid wants to talk to Mitch about it.(Formerly titled "But It Was Matts")





	

In retrospect, Mitch should have known that Connor McDavid was ridiculously observant both on and off the ice.

“I saw your, uh, scrum, Marns,” Connor said just as Mitch’s screen froze so that Mitch couldn’t tell if Connor was amused, horrified or maybe both.

Mitch had already heard from Dylan last night via text, and Dylan had clearly found the whole thing amusing.

_Good job on hugging Ristolainen to death there, bruh_

Mitch had texted back, “I hate you”, and Dylan had responded back with the laughing-so-hard-I’m-crying emoji. Why was he friends with Dylan again?

Skype unfroze itself, and Connor’s face reappeared on the screen again. Amused. Connor looked amused. “You know, with Ristolainen.”

Mitch always prepared himself for impending chirps by going on the offensive. “You guys played last night, it’s 10am Edmonton time right now and you’ve already watched my highlights? Aww, I’m flattered, Davo,” he said, teasingly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Marns - I only watch Leafs highlights for Auston,” Connor retorted, grinning.

“Harsh, Davo,” Mitch tried to look offended, but ended up laughing, as per usual. Mitch could never look mad for more than a few seconds, and everyone knew it.

“Actually, Stromer texted me to say that you had tackled some Sabre to the ice during the game, so naturally I had to find the clip once we had finished our game,” Connor explained.

“Of course, freaking Stromer,” Mitch cut him off, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Every time anything happened in hockey, whether it was the OHL or the NHL, Dylan was always the one to make sure that his friends knew about it as soon as possible. Mitch was positive that, after his NHL career, Dylan would end up being a hockey insider on TSN or Sportsnet or something.

“Anyways, it was nothing,” Mitch explained, shrugging. “It’s not like it was a fight. I just grabbed him and we somehow ended up on the ice.”

“You do realize that he’s like...4 inches taller than you and 50 pounds heavier, right?” Connor grinned. “For a small guy…”

“I’m not small,” Mitch protested instinctively, even though he knew that Connor was just chirping him, and even though he routinely referred to himself as a smaller guy.

“Fine, for a guy who’s not huge, it was pretty crazy to see you tackle that guy,” Connor laughed. “Though…” and then the look on his face turned into one of concern, “...you could have broken something if he had landed on you wrong, Marns.”

Half of the locker room had said the same thing to him after the game last night, after applauding him for his efforts, of course. Matt, Leo and Naz had told him to leave the scrappy stuff to guys like them - _you’re too valuable to the team to go get yourself hurt in a scrum, Marns_. Mo and Jake had threatened to pull him away like a child the next time he tried something like that - _you do realize that all of Toronto will have a meltdown if you get hurt, right?_ \- and then Auston...well, Mitch had stayed up way later than he should have last night wondering what it had meant when Auston had told the media that he would have much rather had himself in the scrum instead of Mitch. And maybe he had let himself hope a little...no, now was not the time to revisit that.

“Yes, McMother,” Mitch rolled his eyes at Connor in response. Connor has always been the most mature one out of the two of them and Dylan, and a few years ago, Dylan and Mitch had started calling him McMother every time he tried to talk them out of anything “immature” (Connor’s words, not theirs, which was just about the most McMotherly term, Mitch thought).

“Stop calling me that,” Connor gave him an _is that really the best you can do_ look. “I’m just saying...you’re playing like a beast right now. You’re in the Calder discussion, Marns. The Leafs are doing really well. You don’t want to get yourself injured and miss a bunch of games…”

Mitch softened. He knew how devastated Connor had originally been last year when he had missed half the season because of that damned clavicle injury (Mitch and Dylan still routinely swore like sailors whenever anyone mentioned the Flyers because of it) and ended up losing the Calder to Panarin because of it. It had taken both Mitch and Dylan reminding Connor that Sidney Crosby had never won the Calder either to cheer him up, because Connor pretty much worshipped Crosby. They had reassured Connor that if Crosby could become the greatest player of his generation without a Calder, then so could Connor.

“Davo, I’m not the Calder favourite like you were anyway - that’s Matts - so it’s not even mine to lose…” Mitch pointed out.

“Don’t downplay it, Marns. You’re in the Calder conversation and everyone knows it. And more importantly, your team needs you.” Connor laughed a little. “You know, Cam is going to personally kill you if the Leafs don’t make the playoffs this season because you got injured trying to fight a guy.”

Cam was Connor’s older brother, and like Connor (and Mitch and Dylan, for that matter), had grown up a diehard Leafs fan. Mitch knew that Cam cheered for the Oilers out west because of Connor but that his number one team was still the Leafs. Mitch and Dylan had nearly died of laughter when Cam had warned Connor a few days after the draft that if the two teams ever met in the Stanley Cup Final, he would, without a doubt, be cheering for the Leafs against his own flesh and blood.

“And killing me would help the Leafs how?” Mitch grinned. “You can tell Cam that I’m fine, by the way.”

“Fine, I’ll just be Mitch Marner’s spokesperson then,” Connor rolled his eyes, but then became serious again. “Anyway, I’m just saying...maybe you don’t need to go risk an injury because some asshole on another team went after one of your teammates. There are other guys who can take care of that stuff, Marns.”

“But it was Matts,” Mitch blurted out without even thinking. _Shit_.

And then before he could say something else to explain himself, Connor’s face turned thoughtful, which, as Mitch knew, was never a good thing.

“So, about that,” Connor began, which made Mitch tense up.

Surely Connor didn’t know or suspect anything, Mitch told himself, trying to calm down, although he could already feel his heart pulsating in his ears. Connor was probably just going to tell him that Auston wouldn’t want Mitch to get injured for him or something, Mitch reassured himself. Right. That was it.

“You guys are pretty close, eh?” Connor said, taking a sip of - Mitch squinted a bit since it was kind of hard to tell with his Skype connection being kind of fuzzy - something green and healthy-looking. Gross, Mitch thought. Connor had told him and Dylan that Jonathan Toews had emailed him a kale juice recipe when he had been recovering from his clavicle injury last season, telling him that he had personally found kale juice to help with recoveries. Mitch was pretty sure that Connor still drank that stuff once in awhile, which was just disgusting.

Maybe he could chirp Davo to distract him from what was looking like a dangerous line of questioning, Mitch suddenly thought. “Davo, are you drinking that weird shit that Toews told you to drink last year when you were injured?”

Connor looked unamused. “Yeah, and we’ve already talked about this before. Stop trying to change the subject.”

 _Dammit_. Connor was notoriously hard to distract when he had a goal in mind, both on and off the ice.

“You and Auston are pretty close…” Connor continued carefully.

“Well, yeah, he’s a good friend,” Mitch replied, willing himself not to blush as he banished the images of Auston that usually came to mind when he thought about him. The Skype connection was fuzzy but not _that_ fuzzy. He didn’t need Connor to see him blush like a freaking teenage boy with a crush - nevermind that he was a teenage boy with a crush. “Great teammate too, you know that.”

Connor nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s a great guy. I won’t forget him going after Polak for me at the World Cup…”

Mitch grinned. “I remember seeing that and thinking...uh, that’s _one_ way to greet your new Leafs teammate.”

“You know he complimented Auston publicly after that game, right?” Connor laughed. “I saw it in some of the post-game stuff. He seemed so proud.”

“Gets cross-checked by his future teammate but compliments him on it after the game. What a beauty,” Mitch added, grinning. “He’s a good guy.” Mitch was grasping at straws now, but maybe Connor would get distracted by...Roman Polak?

“Yeah, I can tell,” Connor nodded, and then without missing a beat, added. “So it was nice seeing Auston again at All-Star weekend.”

Mitch should have known that Connor wasn’t going to get distracted by _Roman Polak_.

“You know,” Connor paused, as if thinking carefully, then continued. “He raved about you when we were catching up. Wouldn’t shut up about you, actually.”

Auston wouldn’t stop talking about him? To Connor, who Auston had serious hockey respect for? Mitch bit hard on his lower lip to stop himself from beaming like an idiot. “Oh yeah? How come he never says anything nice to my face?” he joked, trying to keep his voice light, but one look at Connor’s face told him that he wasn’t buying it.

Connor looked at Mitch with what could only be described as a perceptive look. “I highly doubt that," he said, with a _don’t bullshit me_ tone. “Marns, I need to ask you something.”

Now Mitch was starting to panic. _Oh fuck_.

“Are you and Auston…” Connor paused awkwardly, moving his right hand around as if trying to come up with the words, “...like, together?”

 _I wish_ was the first thought that popped into Mitch’s head, and now he was full-out blushing. He had never been so grateful to the people at Skype for the fuzziness of their video connection right now.

Mitch forced himself to look confused, as if this was the strangest question that he had ever been asked and not a dream that he had been thinking about everyday for the past few months.

“What?” he hoped his voice sounded confused and not like he was reacting to _Connor McDavid_ uncovering his secret desire. “Together...like...dating? Are you concussed, Davo?”

“Yes, like _dating_ , Marns,” Connor rolled his eyes at him. “What other kind of together is there? Unless you want to tell me that you’re married.”

Okay, he could tell the truth here, Mitch told himself. They were not at all dating, after all. That was just what his pathetic self - yes, pathetic, because this whole thing was clearly completely one-sided - wanted, and he wouldn’t be lying to Connor if he said that they weren’t dating. He just wouldn't be telling the complete truth, that's all.

“No, we are not _dating_ ,” Mitch responded, his tone incredulous. “ _Of course_ we’re not dating. Why would you even think that?!”

His heart was racing, but his voice had come out pretty steady, if a bit too incredulous, but there was no time to think about that now because the look on Connor's face suggested that he was not going to let up. That was probably the kind of dedication that had made him McJesus, Mitch noted to himself before continuing to panic.

“Because he couldn’t stop talking about you, and you look like _that_ ,” Connor gestured at his screen, as if gesturing at Mitch’s face, “every single time we talk about him."

“What? You’re imagining things, Davo,” Mitch knew that this was a weak response but his mind was racing and he couldn’t think clearly. _Shit_ , he kept on thinking to himself over and over again. _Fuck Davo. How did the guy have time to lead the NHL in scoring and still read Mitch like a goddamn book?_ Though, Mitch reminded himself, he was only half-right. Auston wasn’t in love with Mitch at all. Obviously. “We’re just friends.” 

“Look, Marns, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand,” Connor’s voice had turned soft and gentle, and his eyes kind. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

For a few seconds, Mitch looked at Connor and thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to confide in. Connor was understanding and could keep a secret, Mitch told himself. And he knew both Auston and Mitch, so maybe he would be able to…

But then Mitch stopped. No, his growing feelings for his teammate and best friend (because yeah, Auston had become Mitch’s best friend in a matter of months) were the kind of thing that would only get worse if he talked about them, he told himself. And he had a team to help lead to the playoffs right now. Now was just not the time.

“I don’t have any secrets,” Mitch protested, shaking his head as if to say that this entire topic was way off-base. “There’s nothing going on with me and Auston. We’re just good friends. Teammates. That’s all.”

Connor sighed, but nodded. “Okay, Marns. I’m sorry, I just thought....anyway, you know I’m here if you ever want to talk about...well, anything, right?” He looked earnest and younger than usual, a lot like the Connor McDavid that Mitch had known way before either of them had gotten anywhere close to the NHL.

Mitch nodded, feeling touched that Connor cared that much about him. It meant something to know that he had at least one friend (okay, he knew that he likely had Dylan too, so two) who would support him through anything, including the sheer stupidity of being in love with his beautiful, out-of-reach teammate. Maybe after the season ended, when Connor was back in town, he would tell him. Maybe. 

“Yeah I know, McMother,” he teased, grinning, because he needed to steer this conversation back into safe territory, and also because it was never not going to be funny to see Connor react to being called McMother.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that.”


End file.
